


Starlight, Starbright

by Jayfire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Good Morgana (Merlin), M/M, based on art, trapped character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayfire/pseuds/Jayfire
Summary: A hunt goes wrong, leaving Arthur trapped. Merlin turns to the stars for help freeing him.Based on a comic by Maryluis.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Starlight, Starbright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maryluis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maryluis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tears of Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/578998) by Maryluis. 



> This is for Maryluis, who released a gorgeous and heart wrenching comic yesterday. This idea would not leave me alone, so here we are. It's your fault Maryluis! I blame you for this.
> 
> The ending is kind of ambiguous, so if you don't like that or just really want something with a super happy ending, this is not the fic for you. It's not necessarily a sad ending either, though. 
> 
> Apologies for any errors or choppiness, I wrote it in one sitting and do not have a beta.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

It was just supposed to be a normal hunt. Just a couple of hours in the forest trying to scare off Arthur’s prey before returning to the castle in time for dinner. That’s it.

Of course, that’s not what happened. Hunts in Camelot never seemed to go to plan. Merlin should have known _something_ would happen. He should’ve been prepared.

But how could he have prepared for this? How could anyone have prepared for this?

Merlin closed his eyes, struggling to choke in a breath. It felt like the earth was trembling beneath him, but he kept his lids shut. An earthquake was the least of his worries just then. In fact, a part of him welcomed the possibility of one. Maybe, if it was strong enough, it would crack the crystal? Then Arthur would be free, and safe, and Merlin wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Maybe – oh, or maybe not. Eyes now open, Merlin could see that the earth wasn’t shaking, he was. His whole body was shuddering like he’d just been dipped in a frozen river, his hands trembling so violently he doubted he’d be able to hold anything. He squeezed his eyes shut again and let his head fall forward onto his chest. He needed to calm down, there was no helping Arthur if he was panicking too much to breathe properly.

Inhale, exhale. Slowly, inhale, exhale. In and out.

Once he had calmed somewhat, his quaking reduced to a mild trembling, Merlin opened his eyes and looked up at Arthur.

The king looked peaceful, his eyes shut and face relaxed. He could’ve been sleeping, if not for the ice-cold crystal entrapping him, leaving naught but his head free. At least his peaceful expression meant he probably wasn’t hurt. Just unconscious, which, while not much better, was reassuring after the force with which the crystals had erupted from the ground and solidified around Arthur. They had shot up and out and around with the speed of a bear trap, enclosing the king before he or Merlin could so much as scream.

Shaking his head, Merlin tried to force the memories out so he could think. There had to be a spell that could help. There had to be some way of freeing Arthur. He could try a blasting charm, but that might harm the king, and that wasn’t something Merlin was willing to risk. He couldn’t free Arthur just to have him perish from a pierced lung. No, attempting anything like a blasting charm would be foolish.

Merlin quickly realized there was nothing he could do. Kicking the crystal nearest him, he let out a growl. Some court sorcerer he was! Couldn’t even protect his king from a few shiny rocks! He felt tears well up in his eyes again, and angrily brushed them aside. There had to be something! He couldn’t just leave Arthur here, trapped and vulnerable.

But, yes. That is what he would have to do. He couldn’t think of any spells that could safely free his friend. Returning to Camelot alone and scouring through Gaius’s books until he found an answer was the only way he could help Arthur now.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, took one last shaky breath, and looked back up at his king, a new fire in his eyes.

“I will get you out, Arthur. Whatever it takes, I will set you free.”

*** 

It had been months. Months of searching through book after book. Of visiting Arthur in his crystal cage once a day, and trying again and again to free him. Merlin had tried a thousand spells to no effect. Nothing he had tried had worked. The crystals were too powerful. His magic either bounced right off their surface, or was absorbed by the precious stones.

He knew Gwen and Gaius and the knights were worried about him. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to any of them since the day he’d come home without Arthur. He knew Gwen had been named queen-regent by the court, and that Lancelot had become her chief advisor. He knew Morgana was court sorcerer in all but name, but he didn’t care. As long as Arthur remained trapped in those blasted crystals, nothing else mattered.

Reaching the end of yet another useless tome, Merlin slammed the cover shut. He swept the pile of books off the table, his head falling to the surface with a thud. That was the last book, the only one he hadn’t already checked. His last hope. He’d failed. He’d failed his king, and lost his closest friend. There was nothing else to do, no more reason for Merlin to stay strong, so he didn’t. Merlin snuck his arms under his head and cried.

ka-thunk, ka-thunk.

He lifted his head. Was that…? It sounded like footsteps, but no one had visited his tower in weeks. He hid his face back in his hands, sure he was imagining it.

Ka-Thunk, Ka-Thunk, Ka-Thunk.

Louder now. Definitely footsteps. Merlin sat up, wiped the tear tracks from his face. He would wait for whoever it was to knock on his door, then tell them to go away. He was feeling to upset and volatile to face anyone right now.

KA-THUNK KA-THUNK KA-THUNK KA-THUNK KA-THUNK.

Even louder, even closer. Merlin could tell that whoever was climbing the stairs to his study was running. Something urgent must be happening. He sighed, and went to the door. If they were willing to run up a hundred steps, it must be important.

He opened the door just in time to see Gwaine come into view.

“MERLIN!” he shouted, already turning back down the stairs. “It’s Arthur. Gaius thinks we’ve found something.”

Not needing anymore of an explanation, Merlin took off after him. They sprinted all the way to the throne room, crashing through the heavy oak doors. Inside, an unfamiliar woman wearing strange clothes, was standing in front of Gwen’s throne.

Gwen nodded to the stranger, so Merlin skidded to a halt in front of her. Eyes wide and wild, hands firmly grasping her shoulders, he shook her and begged, “Tell me what you know. Tell me how to save Arthur.”

She gulped, but bobbed her head and spoke.

“There is a legend amongst my people of a great warrior trapped in rocks like ice. There was only one way to free him.”

“What? How?” Merlin cried, desperate to finally save his king.

“This is what you must do…”

*** 

The night sky was bright, stars twinkling like lightning bugs despite the heavy rain lashing down around him as Merlin rowed his little boat across the sea towards Cumaradh Beag. He glanced down behind him, double checking that his enchanted jar was still there. He squinted, trying to make out the island through the downpour. His arms ached. Not for the first time, he wished he could apparate directly onto the island. As a sacred magical space, however, that wasn’t possible. This was the only way, the woman had said. At least he’d been able to apparate to the coast.

Gritting his teeth against the strain, he tightened his grip on his oars and continued rowing.

Eventually, Cumaradh Beag took shape before him. A rocky beach, and steep grassy hills. He would need to climb the tallest one. He rowed faster. As soon as he thought the water shallow enough, he jumped out of the boat, tugging it the rest of the way to the shore. He dragged it a few metres onto the beach before dropping it and running towards the highest hill. His feet slid on the rocks, twisting his ankles and making him fall, but Merlin didn’t have time to dwell on the pain. Every time he stumbled, he clenched his jaw a little tighter, and kept going.

He was panting and shaking by the time he crested the top of the hill. The wind whipped the grass flat around him, and he paused to thank Gwen for forcing him to wear his hat and cloak. He was cold and wet even with the extra layer they provided. He likely wouldn’t have made it in just his normal light jacket.

Shaking his head, he set the jar on the ground. His hands were slick with rainwater, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to unseal the lid. Cursing, he tried wrapping the top in his slightly-drier shirt, hoping it would provide enough grip to allow him to twist the lid off. His hand slipped, and he cursed again. He took a breath. The lid needed to come off if this was to work. With a sharp tug, and an unnoticed flash of gold in his eyes, the jar opened. Dropping the top, Merlin leapt to his feet, holding the empty jar above his head.

“Tagaigí chugam, a réaltaí! Titigí anuas as an spéir. Mo choimirce ort agus cabhraigh liom! Titigí anuas as an spéir agus isteach sa phróca leibh!” he chanted loudly, the foreign charm sounding more like a roar than a spell.

As soon as the words had left his lips, three sets of three stars turned bright gold. They started vibrating, shaking faster and faster until they came loose. Then, fast as a lighting strike, they flew towards Merlin’s jar. Then, three more groups of three leapt from the sky. The jar was mostly full now, but there was still space. Another three sets of three. Full! Merlin quickly set the jar back on the ground, scooped up the lid, and twisted it back into place.

He peered into his jar of stars, counting them. Twenty-seven golden stars glimmered inside. He hoped it would be enough.

Merlin clambered back down the hill, running for his little boat. He hung the now-luminous jar from the lantern post in the centre of the vessel. Exhausted from his earlier rowing, running, and spellcasting, he urged his magic to guide his boat away from Cumaradh Beag and back towards Ystrad Clud. He leaned forward in anticipation.

The second the bottom of his vessel bumped hit sand, Merlin threw himself out and dashed onto the shore. Once he was firmly back on land, he clutched the jar tightly to his chest, closed his eyes and willed his magic to transport him back to Camelot, to Arthur’s crystal.

A tornado grew up from around his feet, quickly encasing him. It twisted and whipped the air around him, lifting him up from the ground, twisting tighter and tighter, folding in on itself until it disappeared.

Back in Camelot, a short distance from Arthur’s prison, a gentle breeze opened in the middle of the air, becoming stronger and stronger, until a small tornado had formed. Gradually, the wind died down, sinking towards the earth, and Merlin emerged, jar still pressed to his heart. He opened his eyes, and ran towards the crystals.

He carefully set the jar down, and said one final prayer. This _had_ to work. The woman said this was how the warrior in her legend had been freed. The stars had to be enough.

With a shaky inhale and trembling hands, Merlin reached for the lid. He turned it slowly, fear of failure making him hesitant.

No. This would work.

He opened the jar.

One at a time, he pushed the golden stars into the crystal cage. Fissures opened up from each point of entry, sharp cracking sounds echoing through the forest. Hope blossomed in Merlin’s heart. Surely, if the crystals were already coming apart, and there were still several stars left in the jar, they would be enough to free Arthur.

More confident in his success, Merlin picked up the pace. Only six stars left. Five. Four. A particularly large crack opened in the rock, and Merlin inhaled sharply. Three. Two. Last one. Holding his breath, Merlin forced the last one in just above Arthur’s head.

Nothing happened.

Merlin stepped back. Maybe if he gave them a minute…? Still nothing.

He climbed up, checking that none of the stars had come loose. They were all in place, embedded in the crystals exactly where he’d placed them.

“No,” he murmured. “They’re not enough.”

He slid back to the ground. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the star-studded crystals in dismay. Then, he walked over to the spot where Arthur’s face was barely visible. He reached up, fingers brushing his king’s cheek.

“Arthur,” he whispered, voice catching in his throat. His eyes closed, tears already streaming down his face. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Merlin sat down, leaning with his back against the crystal. He rested his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Quietly, speaking to no one but himself, he mumbled three little words he had always wanted to say, but had never voiced before.

“I love you.”

The crystal shook.

**Author's Note:**

> The earliest mention we have of a historic Arthur can be found in Y Gododdin, a Brythonic eulogy from a region of Northern England/Southern Scotland known as the Gododdin. So I decided Camelot would be there for the purposes of this story. 
> 
> The foreign woman that tells Merlin the legend about the crystals and the star is from the Dál Riata, so the spell she teaches Merlin is in Irish. I used modern Irish because I know teanglann.ie is a reliable dictionary and I don't know any Old Irish translation sources. The spell translates (roughly) as: "Come to me, stars! Descend from the sky! I beg you to come and help me! Descend from the sky and go into the jar!"
> 
> I used Scots Gaelic and Welsh names for the places other than Camelot that I mentioned. The island Merlin goes to, Cumaradh Beag, is Little Cumbrae in Scotland. I used the Gaelic name because it was part of the Dál Riata, a Gaelic-speaking kingdom. The closest part of mainland Britain to this island was a Brythonic area, so I used the Welsh Ystrad Clud, meaning Strathclyde. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this humble story! Thank you for reading, and take care of yourselves! <3


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